Hassan Rateq (43) is one of the Afghans currently residing at a makeshift refugee center that used to be a military base in West Jakarta. Fellow refugees in this facility consider him as the community coordinator. Hassan originally comes from Jaghori, a district located in the Ghanzi Province in Afghanistan..
The military barracks is now home to 162 Afghans and 8 Pakistani refugees who are all from the ethnic minority Hazara. An ethnic community who are mostly Shiit Muslims that have been subjected to years of persecution in their native countries.
Grass has been left unattended at the two-story military facility located in the middle of an elite housing complex. It consists of a large main building along with smaller structures in its surrounding, a musalla, and a half-constructed building at its northern side.
The refugees used to occupy the sidewalks in front of the Jakarta Immigration Detention Home which is located 650 meters from the military barracks, where they currently reside since July 2019.
Dozens of medium-sized tents are set up inside the half-constructed building where Hassan stays along with his countrymen. Other refugees, especially those with family members, live inside rooms at the packed main building with makeshift partitions to equally divide the limited space and salvage a little bit of privacy..
The building is equipped with a groundwater storage facility as the main clean water source, but is inoperable during the night. Water can only be obtained during the day. Refugees have gotten used to storing water during the day to use at night.
However, the water is salty to consume and is uncomfortable to the skin if used for bathing. “We cannot use this water for drinking or cooking. It’s only used to wash clothes, dishes, and bathing,” Hassan recalled.
Hassan, who suffers from kidney disease, stores water that he is able to drink which is needed to help suppress the lower back pain he suffers because of his illness.
The facility’s electricity bill is entirely funded by non-governmental organizations or individuals who visit the location.
Hassan recalls the first time he arrived there where there were platoon tents that could accommodate 50-100 people, which were set up by a local government staff. “When we came here, we were provided food, electricity, water—everything,” said Hassan.
Unfortunately, these facilities only lasted for 41 days as the tents were dismantled and electricity cut off, which was then followed by a notice from the local government for refugees to empty the military barracks. A request for comment from Tempo to the Jakarta Province’s Head of Social Agency Premi Lasari was not responded to until the publication of this story.
The eviction notice incited anger among refugees and decided to hold a demonstration in front of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) in Central Jakarta back in October of 2019. They threatened to sleep in front of the headquarters if they remained in limbo, fortunately, their demand to continue staying at the military barracks was guaranteed by the UNHCR.
One year after, the government and UNHCR representatives agreed to turn the building into a refugee house. According to Hassan, a government representative at the time promised to renovate the building.
“But they never came here,” he said.
Waiting in Uncertainty
Hassan initially expected his arrival in Indonesia to be temporary around 3-4 years before a permanent resettlement at a third country.
However, he has surpassed the expected time he would stay in Indonesia and could potentially wait even longer due to his status as an asylum seeker.
In order to be resettled to a third country, Hassan must obtain his status as a refugee through the refugee status determination (RSD) process that is provided by the UNHCR. However, he is yet to receive a call from the UNHCR for an interview.
“Never never never,” Hassan anxiously said to Tempo when asked whether he had been called by UNHCR to undergo the RSD process. “They’ve never done that and they do not have a logical answer as well.”
The process for resettlement will not end even if he manages to obtain the status as a refugee as the next step is to be interviewed by the embassy of the placement country who decides to accept him. This process will take at least years to complete.
Tempo also met with another Afghan refugee, Mahdi Rafei (28) who currently resides in Cisarua, a sub-regency located in the Mount Gede region, Bogor, West Java, a 2-to-3 hour drive from Jakarta.
Mahdi shares the same situation as Hassan as he is legally still an asylum seeker. He had sent the UNHCR emails multiple times requesting to enter the RSD process, but to no avail.
“To be honest, I'm dying to get a missed call from UNHCR, at least a missed call,” Mahdi told us. He now leads an informal school for refugees in Cisarua called the Refugee Learning Nest (RLN).
Another refugee Tempo met was Aryan (29) who lives at a dormitory in an area between Jakarta and Depok. He has lived in Indonesia since 2014.
In contrast to Hassan and Mahdi, Aryan has obtained his status as a refugee after waiting for four months since registering himself at the UNHCR in May of 2014. However, to this day he has not received a call from UNHCR or the embassy regarding his resettlement.
“How many times have I been to the UNHCR, or asked them through an email online. I also went to the American Embassy with documents but have still not received any updates,” said Aryan.
They do not know each other, yet they share the same fate. They ran away for their safety, only to end up as castaways in another.
Hassan Rateq (43) has lived in Indonesia since January 2016. For him, years of living as a refugee is similar to “living in a prison”.
Even though the Indonesian government allows refugees to live in the country, their lives are not free. Refugees are unable to work because regulations prevent them from doing so. Education for their children is also limited.
Hassan, and other ethnic Hazara refugees, also have a hard time practicing their religion. The majority of Hazarans are Shiite Muslims, whilst the majority of Indonesians are Sunni. Because of this, they cannot worship with Indonesians, even though they are fellow Muslims.
“What do you think if you live like this for 10 years?” Hassan said to Tempo.
Hassan left his wife and five children in Afghanistan after a militia group came for him in his house. He is not certain, but he suspects they were Taliban.
At the time, Hassan worked in logistics in a local company that worked together with the Afghan government, in the Helmand province. It is no secret in the region that the Taliban targets people who work with the government, NATO forces, or foreign companies.
Luckily, that night, Hassan was accompanying his pregnant wife in the hospital. Since then, he had left his home and his family. He has never met his youngest child.
A travel agent sent him from Kabul to New Delhi, India with a plane. He then continued his flight to Singapore, Surabaya, and ended up in Jakarta.
Hassan thought that he would be resettled in another country within three and a half years since he arrived in Indonesia. During that time, he learned computer skills from an online course that an international organization had set up.
But until now, he is still classified as an asylum seeker, despite the fact that refugee status is needed for the permanent resettlement process to start. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) still hasn’t called him up to start the Refugee Status Determination process.
Hassan has led numerous demonstrations for Afghan refugees in front of UNHCR offices to demand clarity for their futures. UNHCR representatives always respond that asylum seekers and refugees have clear and equal rights in the eyes of the Indonesian government through Perpres Nomor 125 Tahun 2016.
“[Even though the rights] was given by the government of Indonesia, doesn't mean you should not interview asylum seekers and then stop them here.” he says. “Because if you're not a refugee you can never be resettled to a third country.”
Hassan and the other refugees in Kalideres live by relying on donations from organizations and individuals both overseas and abroad. He actually has made an online learning platform from the computer skills he had learned. But because he couldn’t open a bank account, he sees none of the profits.
He put his name forward as a representative for the Afghan refugees in 2019. He believes that he gained the most votes from the other refugees with 231 votes. But UNHCR chose six other people whose vote tallies were less than 200. He suspects that UNHCR didn’t want to appoint him because he was too vocal.
“Because I am asking for the refugee’s rights and I am also revealing the truth.” he says.
He says that he received an apology from the Head Representative of UNHCR Indonesia, Ann Maymann. Maymann had also given him a job offer within the UNHCR that he rejected.
“I said I will only work for the UN, if the UN is honest and truly works for refugees.”
Tempo tried to corroborate this story to UNHCR’s Associate for External Relations, Mitra Salima. However, we have not heard from them as of the time of writing.
Even though he has been stranded for years, he still has hope of getting a permanent placement one day, even though he has given up on UNHCR's attitude. For him, it was hope that kept him alive to this day.
“God willing, Insyallah, I can be resettled one day.”
Mahdi Rafei (28) still remembers living in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates (UAE) fondly.
“I was always first in class. I have all the certificates.” he says.
He was born and lived in Abu Dhabi until he was eighteen because his father worked in that city. Both of his parents are Afghan nationals.
A couple of days after his eighteenth birthday, though, he was deported to Afghanistan and left his university unfinished. He had never broken any laws that warranted his deportation. UAE immigration had also told him nothing.
He suspects that he was deported for religious reasons. His family is ethnically Hazara and is part of the Shia sect of Muslims. The UAE’s royal family and the majority of people there are Sunnis.
He stayed home for more than six months after moving to Kabul because of his fear of terror attacks in the city. But afterwards, he managed to land a job as an Assistant Director for a local property company.
“I was happy with what I was doing, income was also quite good.” he says.
In 2017, he suddenly received a request from a mysterious group of people to make an entry keycard to enter the office complex where he worked. Not many people can enter this place because there are many foreigners that live and work there.
He remembered that there was a Taliban attack where they had infiltrated the Hotel Serena and killed locals and foreigners. The Hotel was one of the places with the tightest security in the city, and was a favorite hangout for foreigners. His memory of the attack made him refuse the request.
After his refusal, he was soon tailed by unknown people and was left threatening messages. He contacted a travel agent to help him leave Afghanistan forever. The agent offered Indonesia, where he now lives for the last five years.
He was in transit in four different cities before arriving in Cisarua. He passed New Delhi, India, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, Medan, and Bandung. He traveled mostly by plane. From Bandung, he traveled by car to Cisarua.
His first year in Indonesia he spent mostly in his rented house, looking after his registration as an asylum seeker to the United Nation High Commissioner for Refugees office in Jakarta. After learning of the existence of the Refugee Learning Nest - a learning center for refugees - near where he lived in 2018, he signed up as a volunteer English teacher.
Because of his education in Business Management, he was also given the responsibility for the RLN’s finances. Soon after in 2019, he was appointed as the RLN headmaster.
Mahdi has no family in Indonesia. His father is a refugee in Melbourne, Australia. His mother and four siblings remained in Afghanistan.
He feels that his time in Indonesia is like living in limbo - a time of total uncertainty. But he feels it is easier to adapt to live in Indonesia rather than Afghanistan.
“Adapting in Afghanistan was so much harder because of that bad experience,” he says.
But the language barrier remains an obstacle. He can only speak a little Indonesian. Local residents also often mistake him and the other refugees for Arab tourists who spend a lot of money in the Cisarua area.
“They kind of expect us to do the same and when we don't do it - they look upset,” he says.
As a refugee, he cannot work because there are no regulations that allow them to. In order to do
To earn even a small amount of money, he became a freelance translator thanks to his ability to speak four languages. The four languages that Mahdi is fluent in are English, Arabic, Urdu, and Persian.
Mahdi hopes that foreign donors can come to Indonesia and sponsor the resettlement of vulnerable refugees that the UNHCR are unable to take care of instead of donating to the learning center.
“We don't want to be like, ‘Donate to us.’” He says. “Donate to the community and take them out of here.”
He also still dreams of getting a permanent placement. He doesn’t mind being sent anywhere else. He hopes to be able to take care of his father who lives alone and is suffering from cancer.
Aryan (29) has been in transit in Indonesia for almost eight years. He comes from a rural village in Afghanistan within the Paktia Province that was populated by a majority of Pashtun people. Back then, the area was known for harboring Taliban rebels from the NATO-backed western government.
Many of Aryan’s neighbors and school friends joined the Taliban. However, he was never interested.
“I thought, never. Because I only wanted to make a decent living,” he said to Tempo.
After university, Aryan’s uncle had invited him to work in an expedition company in Kabul - the capital city of Afghanistan. The company worked closely with the United States Army forces.
“I worked at a base with Americans. So there is a special place for them, and the army is there. To help if they need the expedition transports,” he said.
Aryan knows that the job is dangerous for him. To the Taliban, locals who worked for the government or any foreign army are classified as enemies. The Taliban has also sent him letters threatening his safety if he does not quit his job.
However, Aryan had always ignored these threats. But in 2014, the Taliban made good on their promise.
“I think at about 11 at night, the Taliban came into my house. When they came, they took my father and uncle, who worked with the Americans as well,” he says. His father is still safe, but his uncle was killed because of his work as a translator of the American army.
Aryan saat itu sedang dalam perjalanan kembali ke rumah dari Kabul. Mengetahui kejadian itu, dia putar balik kembali ibu kota, dan tidak pernah pulang ke rumah.
At the time, Aryan was coming home from Kabul. But hearing that the Taliban was searching for him, he ran away and never looked back.
Aryan’s cousin had helped him leave the country. He was smuggled from Kabul to New Delhi, India with a plane. He continued his travels to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
Aryan then crossed to Sumatera with a boat, he stayed for three days and made his way from Medan to Jakarta. A smuggler put him up in a hotel for three days, and then brought him to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees headquarters in Indonesia.
“He dropped me off there. He told me to just register there in Persian.”
Abruptly dropped in front of the building, he was helped by a fellow refugee from Afghanistan in registering for refugee status with the UNHCR.
That refugee also invited Aryan to stay with him in his rented house in Cisarua, Bogor. After a couple of weeks, he received a cellphone that enabled him to contact his family back in Afghanistan.
“After I got a phone, I could communicate with my cousin. He sent money to me, so I can start a new life.” he said.
Aryan speaks Indonesian fluently, something he picked up as he interacted with the locals in his neighborhood’s mosque. He is a Sunni Muslim, like other Pashtuns, hence he is able to socialise with the locals during prayer.
His Indonesian skills became even sharper after a local friend took him to Ambon, he stayed there for a month - honing his language skills.
“I came because I was bored, there’s nothing to do,” he says.
Now, Aryan lives in a small rented room near the border of East Jakarta - Depok. Through social media, he met with a local woman who is now his girlfriend.
After some time, his girlfriend’s family asked him to take care of the family’s restaurant business. From there, he has a living wage that helps him survive in Indonesia. The whole thing happened just in the nick of time, as the economic downturn in Afghanistan caused his family to stop sending him money.
For Aryan, his job is an escape. He is suffering from depression because of the uncertainties of his future and his status as a refugee disqualifying him from the many rights that locals have. He had a spell of insomnia for a period of time because of these stresses, and could only sleep for 2-3 hours every day.
“I couldn’t do anything, I was like a dead man,” he says.
The state of his family is also one of the reasons why depression has hit him, especially the losses that he endured while he was away.
“My little brother became a police officer because there was no other job available,” he says. “Then he was killed.”
Initially, his family hid his brother’s death from him, but he was told after he repeatedly asked for him.
His mother also died soon after. “After 2-3 years living here, I heard that my mother passed away because of stress.”
The depression has made him a chronic smoker, a habit he picked up here. He goes through more than a pack of cigarettes a day.
Aryan has received refugee status 19 months after he registered in the UNHCR offices. However, he still has not heard anything about his resettlement, either from UNHCR or whichever country he will be resettled in.
His experiences made him reluctant to ever return to Afghanistan. He does not believe that the Taliban will ever forgive the people they had considered enemies.
“As long as I live, I will never return to Afghanistan. The fear I had in my heart, I hold it until now.”
He hopes he can get resettled soon, no matter what the country would be.
“Instead of me here wanting to kill myself, do something bad or something."
Struggling with no Income
The UNHCR Indonesia fact sheet on December 2021 states there are 13,149 registered refugees in Indonesia, with most of them or 7,439 coming from Afghanistan. They comprise 56.6 percent of the total refugee count in the country.
The same document claims the organization provides a monthly allowance to 1,243 refugees categorized as vulnerable groups of people.
Despite not ratifying the 1951 Convention/ 1967 Protocol, Indonesia has Presidential Regulation (Perpres) No.125 /2016 overseeing the handling of foreign refugees. However, anthropologist Antje Missbach and human rights researcher Nikolas Feith Tan argue that the regulation does not entirely protect refugees in Indonesia. It is still not clear how their livelihoods are funded once they are accepted in Indonesia.
Head of the overseas refugees handling task force (Satgas PPLN), brigadier general Bambang Pristiwanto said the government is not responsible to fund the refugees’ livelihoods and argues that it lies in the hands of the UNHCR and the International Organization for Migration (IOM).
Akmal Haris Rusdi, IOM Indonesia national program officer confirmed Pristiwanto’s statement and acknowledged that his organization is partly responsible for the welfare of the refugees during their temporary stay in Indonesia. Haris said the help comes from the Regional Cooperation Arrangements (RCA).
IOM Indonesia’s assistance includes providing refugees with accommodation, providing for their hospital treatments, and monthly allowances. The organization also provides vocational programs to further empower refugees' skills, and mental health assistance.
Haris records there are at least 7,400 refugees in Indonesia who participate in this program. Refugees must obtain a recommendation letter from the Indonesian government to register for the program.
The IOM would then select applicants based on their vulnerability such as children who arrive without guardians or parents, their gender and sex, protection needs, health issues, and welfare level.
Unfortunately, IOM no longer accepts new refugees under the program since 2018.
“We can’t necessarily guarantee sufficient funds or donors from the program,” Harris elaborated. “There are programs that need adjustment or target those who are actually vulnerable.
He explains that refugees who already receive assistance from IOM are not eligible for a similar assistance from the UNHCR, and vice versa. In other words, there are 4,506 refugees who have to be able to provide for themselves.
Indonesia remains a temporary transit country for Hassan, Mahdi, and Aryan, however, with unclear resettlement status they must struggle to provide for themselves during their stay. However, regulations bar them from working.
“Indonesia’s regulation to this day does not regulate their rights for employment,” said Bambang.
This fact was also asserted by Hendra Nofiardi, Deportation Sub-Coordinator of the Directorate General of Immigration. “Refugees are not foreign nationals staying in Indonesia. This country is just a transit for them which is why they are not permitted [to work] as it goes against the regulation issued by the Manpower Ministry,” Nofiardi explains. This issue is mentioned in Government Regulation No.48/2021.
The absence of the right to work proves to be a challenge for the refugees. Those who depended on money transferred by relatives or friends outside of Indonesia now no longer receive such help as it tends to not last very long.
“I don’t have a job, but I was financially assisted by a number of relatives and friends. It stopped flowing in 2018,” he recalled.
The only source of money he relies on today is the UNHCR Covid-19 allowance, which the organization provides globally. He recalls that he and other refugees received this allowance 6 to 7 times. The UNHCR claims there are 4,129 refugees or 31.4 percent of refugees in Indonesia who are eligible for the Covid-19 assistance in December of 2021.
Refugees at the Kalideres military barracks also get help in the form of food and money from organizations and individuals here and abroad. Large sums of assistance usually arrive in specific moments such as during the holy month of Ramadan, Christmas, or New Year. But all of these are not regular.
“Without an event, we don’t receive any donations at all,” Hassan explained.
As a pass the time, Hassan took free online courses in computer science provided by a foreign humanitarian agency. He also studied programming and web development. In addition, he also took journalism courses.
After completing the computer science course, Hassan independently built an online learning platform. But one major issue still exists as Hassan, and refugees in general, find it difficult to set up a bank account as they only have a UNHCR card as their identification.
“I still cannot get something out of it because I cannot have a bank account,” he said.
He once applied for a job as an English teacher at a refugee learning center run by Jesuit Refugee Service (JRS) but has yet to receive any response for years and decided to leave it behind him.
Meanwhile, Mahdi relies on his own limited savings he had prior to arriving in Indonesia. Becoming a teacher at a refugee learning center is not financially viable as it is a volunteer job. He relied on his income as a freelance translator thanks to his linguistic skills in English, Arabic, Urdu, and Persian - with the latter being his native language.
“I'm struggling to have food on my table,” Mahdi lamented. “Not just me, most of the refugees here I mean in the fact they're having only one meal during the day.”
Meanwhile Aryan, who once relied on financial assistance from his cousin in Afghanisatan, has been asked by his girlfriend’s family to manage a food stall they own in the area where he lives.
“I no longer ask for money from my family, since the economy has crumpled back there. I can’t steal nor hurt anyone,” said Aryan.
He personally sees the activity as a pass time to make himself busy amidst resettlement uncertainty. This mental burden is worsened by the fate his family faces back at his native country, which caused him to suffer from stress and insomnia.
"I’m not thinking about money or what, It’s just so I can sleep on time and live a normal life like a normal person" he recollected.
The hardship faced by the refugees attracted the attention of Suaka, a civil society coalition working in the field of protecting the rights of refugees. Its chairperson, Atika Yuanita, says that her organization initially received reports about 6 refugees in Cisarua who were arrested by police after they were caught selling goods.
“They were detained for 2 days, fortunately they were released not long after,” she recalled.
The PPLN task force head Bambang did not put a blind eye on the financial difficulties experienced by the refugees, which is why he claims that the government always puts forth humanitarian principles to handle the challenges that refugees are facing.
“Humanity means not violating our country’s rules. But the monitoring aspect remains,” he said.
Restricted rights for refugees also occur in Indonesia’s neighboring country, Malaysia. According to a report by MalaysiaKini, the country is yet to ratify the 1951 convention or 1967 Protocol. As a result, refugees there face the problem of not being able to legally work.
House of Representatives (DPR) international relations and defense commission Speaker Mutya Hafid said Indonesia has pledged to provide access for refugees to grow and empower themselves, which was mentioned in the Global Refugee Forum in Geneva, Swiss, back on December 17, 2019.
“The Indonesian government has also pledged, among others, to design a refugee empowerment program,” Meutya asserted.
Atika said that civil society coalition Suaka is also involved in facilitating the refugees’ empowerment and welfare in Indonesia. Refugees are encouraged to make handicraft products or food that can be sold through a platform called Refutera.
“We consider this a good opportunity to develop and be creative, and it can be a source of income. At the very least it can help them survive on a daily basis,” said Atika.
Meanwhile, the UNHCR has introduced the Livelihood Opportunities in 2019 meant to help empower refugees in partnership with the Indonesian Manpower Ministry. According to Mitra Salima, UNHCR Indonesia associate external relations, refugees can join the program that aims to grow the productivity of local micro, small, and medium enterprises (MSMEs).
“At the very least we hope they can make an allowance, a little income for lunch and transportation, which surely will be very helpful to support the refugees’ lives and their family members,” Mitra elaborates.
Mahdi claimed he had participated in a multitude of workshops and seminars hosted by the UNHCR. “But then it was not really helpful for me and my situation as a refugee,” he laments.
Limited Access to Education
Another obstacle that holds back these refugees while they wait in Indonesia is access to education. According to Retno Listyarti, Commissioner of Education for the Commission of Child Protection in Indonesia (KPAI) and member of the Satgas PPLN for the rights of education, child refugees can attend formal schools in Indonesia.
The right to education for child refugees is a consequence of the Indonesian government ratifying the Rights of Children convention in 1990. According to Retno, as one of the state parties, Indonesia must fulfill the rights of children without exceptions. “The rights of these children include the right to education,” she said.
Retno outlined that the right to schooling for child refugees is indicated in the Circular of the Secretary General of the Ministry of Education and Culture (Kemendikbud) No 752553/A.A4/HK/2019. Tempo also found that similar regulations can be found in Government Regulation (PP) Number 78 Year of 2021.
However, child refugees are unable to acquire a diploma if they have finished school. In exchange, they will receive a letter certifying school results.
In Retno’s experience as Commissioner for the KPAI, she has met with child refugees that attend schools in Semarang, Batam, Makassar, Tangerang, South Tangerang, and West Jakarta.
However, Retno stresses that the state is not responsible for the education of these child refugees. The burden to pay their school fees falls to IOM. For a public school, fees only amount to an allotment of school operational assistance funds for one student.
According to IOM data, there are 680 child refugees that receive IOM assistance for school fees in Indonesian formal schools in January 2022.
In December 2021, UNHCR recorded 3.518 child refugees in Indonesia. Using this statistic to account for the total number of child refugees in Indonesia, it would mean only 19,3 percent of child refugees in Indonesia received IOM assistance for formal schooling.
In the end, adult refugees provide their own education for child refugees. In the Kalideres refugee barracks, Hassan teaches English for the child refugees that live there. In Cisarua, there are five learning centers for refugees including the RLN. These learning centers were created based on the initiative of the refugees itself.
RLN caretakers rented a 200 square meter villa in Cisarua. The villa has three rooms for classrooms, one room for administration and one toilet.
In 2021, the RLN had around 150 students, with 26 staff members acting as teachers and management. Most of the RLN’s staff and students are Afghans, with Iranian, Iraqis and Pakistanis as minority groups. To get around the tight space, each learning session is split into two, with each session consisting of two hours.
The roof of this building looked fragile. In its western side, clay roofs and gutters are detached from the top.
The building’s age is very worrying during rain or strong winds. Teachers and management staff prepare buckets to catch water when it leaks into the building. The water causes the ceiling to constantly be damp.
“When kids come in, they scream and go back to the teacher like ‘so smelly, we don't want to sit here.” Mahdi says. “I think no one can stay here for a long time.”
RLN has stayed in this building since March 2015.
To pay for operational costs, RLN is dependent solely on donations from online fundraisers. However, the Covid-19 pandemic has made them miss their financial targets.
Mahdi recollects that several foreign non-governmental organizations (NGOs) held online fundraising events for the RLN. They posted photos and videos of the vulnerable conditions that the RLN building is in to convince good natured donors.
But there are questions regarding the transparency for these funds. Based on Mahdi’s experiences, only 5 to 10 percent actually goes to the RLN. Most of the funds, according to Mahdi’s findings, were used more for these NGOs operational needs for fundraising.
"We don't want to be used like that," said Mahdi, who joined RLN in 2018.
Child refugees in the RLN receive basic lessons in English, mathematics, natural sciences, and the arts. RLN also has a men's and women's futsal team, and has participated in various competitions between refugee learning centers. In addition, RLN also facilitates workshops organized by institutions or individuals who visit there.
Mahdi admits that the teachers in the RLN are not professionals. All of them are volunteers.
“We try to at least teach the refugees a second language. Like English, which is an international language.” He says. “Wherever they will be, it's going to be very useful for them."
Teachers are also burdened by mental stresses caused by the long transitory period in Indonesia and their unclear futures. Many volunteers do not stay for long.
"Not a single one (refugee) has come here to establish a school and continue to teach," Mahdi said. "Keeping yourself busy, maybe it can be a good plan for 1-2 years, a maximum of 3 years," he continued.
“But after that, we had a lot of problems… and we couldn't trust someone who was unhappy or stressed. (If they suffer from) a lot of stress, a lot of worry, how could we send them to class to take care of the kids?”
Some teachers also quit due to financial difficulties in supporting themselves and their families. Many international organizations reject assistance applications from RLN volunteers because they mistakenly believe they are earning an income as teachers in the RLN.
Currently, the RLN is trying to at least cover the costs of transportation for its volunteer teachers. Each volunteer gets a transport subsidy of US$ 36 (Rp 518 thousand) per month. They usually spend US$ 33-34 (Rp 475-490 thousand) every month on transport to get from where they are to the RLN.
Mahdi says that even though these subsidies don’t really amount to much, some volunteers who really needed the money choose to walk 30 minutes to the RLN instead and use these subsidies for their other needs.
RLN has repeatedly sent proposals to the UNHCR to fund and provide basic learning center needs such as stationery and the like. However, these proposals often fall to the wayside.
“For example, we have sent our proposal when the school term starts at the beginning of the year. And then maybe only in December we received (the stationery),” said Mahdi.
“You can see, just for small necessities like stationery, how long they responded," he continued.
He didn't know the exact reason behind the long delivery.
A similar incident happened when they sent in a proposal request for the provision of masks and other equipment for the refugee community around RLN when the pandemic broke out. Reflecting on that experience, RLN also spread proposals to other organizations so that these needs were immediately met.
Mitra explains that the assistance UNHCR can provide to refugees also depends on donor contributions. In 2021, UNHCR needed US$ 17.9 million (Rp 257.5 billion) to handle refugees in Indonesia. Of that amount, only 60 percent was raised.
Like a Prisoner
Living in Indonesia for a long time without being able to live normally and the uncertainty of their future creates mental stress for the refugees. Mahdi likens it to living in a limbo.
Saleh Sepas, an Afghan refugee living in Malaysia feels the same way. Saleh is the founder of Parastoo Theatre, an Afghan refugee theater group in Kuala Lumpur.
“The majority of refugees have one or more forms of mental health problems, most of which stem from the great uncertainty that exists for the rest of our lives,” Saleh told MalaysiaKini.
"Tomorrow's gloom. The frustration of seeing our children grow up without an education and the oppression of denied opportunities to have a better life for us.”
Meanwhile, Hassan takes it a step further, and likens the fate of refugees today as like being in prison.
"You have no right to study, teach and practice your religious life and so on," Hassan said. Because they are of the Shi'a sect, the Hazara refugees are unable to practice their beliefs with the majority Sunni Muslim population of Indonesia.
Hassan said that so far there have been 14 refugees who committed suicide in Indonesia. 13 of these incidents are Afghan refugees.
The latest suicide attempt was made by an Afghan refugee, Ahmad Shah (21), during a demonstration by Afghan refugees in front of the UNHCR office in Medan, North Sumatra, at the end of last November.
Anbar Jayadi, an academic at the Faculty of Law, University of Indonesia, believes that the suicides committed by the refugees cannot be separated from the frustration they experience.
"They are 'exiled' in the sense that they cannot participate fully in Indonesian public life as human beings," he wrote in The Conversation.
Atika said that Suaka has asked the government to ratify the 1951 Convention on Refugees. For Suaka, the Presidential Decree No. 125/2016 is still not sufficient to fulfill the rights of refugees.
"Our goal is to at least have a special law for asylum seekers and refugees related to the fulfillment of their basic rights in Indonesia," said Atika.
Meanwhile, the Director of Human Rights and Humanity of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Kemenlu), Achsanul Habib said that to ratify an international convention, a national consensus is needed between the cabinet and parliament.
"We need a national consensus process that is driven by urgency, priority, and if it is within the national interest. So far, according to our records, it is not something that is of critical importance," said Habib.
Habib argues that the countries that had ratified the convention did not fully implement the convention's mandate. Some of them created quotas for refugees, or even refused their arrival altogether. It was because of these nations that Indonesia ended up accommodating the refugees even though they did not ratify the convention.
However, the more refugees who come to Indonesia, the smaller the chance of resettlement becomes for the refugees who arrived earlier. They will be increasingly displaced if there are new refugees who are categorized as more vulnerable by the UNHCR.
"There were refugees who came in 2019 or 2018, their resettlement process was very fast, they went through the embassy interview process (prospective recipient countries), and finally they were placed (there)," said Mahdi.
“Then there are refugees (who arrived) since 2013-2014 and have not been interviewed (by the UNHCR). I mean, how much longer do they have to wait?”
Mitra acknowledges that refugee resettlement opportunities are very limited. She explained that only less than 1.5 percent of refugees worldwide have had the opportunity. The criteria for resettlement remains within the full authority of the receiving country, not UNHCR.
According to UNHCR records, the number of refugees that are resettled from Indonesia to recipient countries has also decreased in the last two years due to the Covid-19 pandemic. Not only that, many refugees from their countries of origin now go directly to these receiving countries.
"So, of course, the receiving country will prioritize people who come directly to their door rather than taking resettlement in transit countries like Indonesia," said Mitra.
According to Habib, most of the refugees around the world are being held in transit countries like Indonesia. He urges developed countries not to shift the burden of these refugees onto developing countries by leaving them here for as long as possible.
"But keep in mind, it's not only Indonesia that is queuing and asking for these refugees to be resettled," said Habib.
Habib argues that resettlement is not the final solution to overcome the refugee problem. As long as the root of the problem—the conflict in the country of origin of the refugees—is not resolved, the number of refugees will continue to grow.
UNHCR also stated that resettlement is not a right for all refugees. This is stated in a leaflet document released in 2017.
For Mahdi, the main problem is that the UNHCR is not transparent enough to refugees regarding the process of gaining a vulnerable refugee status. So far, the process only involves a single page form that a refugee fills out when they register with UNHCR. According to him, a sheet of paper is not enough for a refugee to properly explain his vulnerability.
"How will they (UNHCR) know if I am vulnerable or not, while they did not interview me at all," said Mahdi. “Let me speak, and then I let you (UNHCR) judge. And you can reject me, no problem."
Similar complaints also came from Hassan. Whenever refugees ask the UNHCR about resettlement, the answer they receive is that the UNHCR will process their resettlement if it meets the appropriate criteria.
"I asked them (UNHCR), 'How do you know, if you haven't interviewed the person, if the case is eligible for resettlement or not?'" Hassan said.
“If they (UNHCR) interviewed asylum seekers, they should have given the results. Rejection doesn't matter."
However, the interview process for both RSD and resettlement does take considerable resources. First, there is a need for an active translator to assist the interview process as many asylum seekers or refugees can only speak their mother tongue.
Second, the assessment process needs to be carried out in detail to verify the information given by these refugees. Moreover, refugees come from different countries, so each case needs a tailored approach.
Mitra acknowledges that the number of staff of UNHCR Indonesia is not equal to the sheer number of refugees that needs to be taken care of. However, this is inseparable from the fact that the allocation of human resources from the UN is linked to the size of the operation in each country. The number of refugees in Indonesia in December 2021 is still much smaller than in Malaysia (180,440 people), Thailand (96,175 people), and Bangladesh (889,775 people).
"When compared to other operations, (Indonesia) is considered a small operation," said Mitra.
Afghan refugees in various cities in Indonesia have repeatedly demonstrated to demand clarity on their fate. Apart from UNHCR, they also demonstrated in front of the embassies of refugee-receiving countries asking that these countries immediately accept them.
According to Mitra, permanent placement is only one of the long-term options. Two other options that refugees can choose from are local integration and voluntary repatriation.
"In terms of local integration, the option does not yet exist because in Indonesia there is no legal framework that allows local integration processes to be implemented in this country," said Mitra.
As for voluntary repatriation, there are two conditions that must be met. The first condition is that, "[UNHCR] have to make sure first that persecution or threats of war or conflict in their country of origin no longer exist," said Mitra.
"And the second condition is that the person concerned declares voluntarily that they want to be sent home."
But with the Taliban currently in power in Afghanistan, Hassan, Mahdi and Aryan will not choose that option. They are all skeptical of the Taliban's promise that they will ensure the safety of minorities and people they saw as enemies in the past.
Aryan openly stated that he was still traumatized by the Taliban.
“As long as I live, I will never return to Afghanistan. The fear I had in my heart, I hold it until now.”
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