Sixteen-year-old Zainul Fatih experienced every student’s worst nightmare when his boarding school suddenly collapsed. He awoke amidst the chaos, hearing his friends’ desperate cries for help from behind crushing concrete slabs. Miraculously, he found a way to crawl towards the light and escape the wreckage.
Zainul is one of only fourteen confirmed survivors of the devastating Islamic school collapse that struck East Java, Indonesia, earlier this week. Though deeply bruised and traumatized, his ordeal is far from over. On Friday, he and his family remained at a nearby shelter, anxiously awaiting updates on his missing cousin and the fate of at least 58 other students believed to be dead or still trapped.
His father, Abdus Syakur, 45, shared the heartbreaking news that Zainul remains deeply traumatized, visibly shaken, and unwilling to speak with anyone.
By Friday, rescuers had recovered five additional bodies from the debris, raising the official death toll to ten, according to the National Search and Rescue Agency. However, despair is mounting as dozens more remain unaccounted for, a day after officials declared no further survivors were expected. Overwhelmed by frustration and fury at the slow pace of recovery, some distraught relatives even stormed the site, demanding faster action.
“You keep telling us to wait, but it’s already the fifth day!” one woman cried out in anguish to the rescue teams. “Don’t you feel sorry for us?” The sheer desperation led some family members to demand direct involvement in the recovery efforts themselves.
Rescue officials explained that the recovery operation is proving exceptionally challenging due to the confined space, making it difficult for heavy machinery to maneuver and clear the massive concrete slabs and debris.
A four-story dormitory has been converted into a temporary shelter, now teeming with the parents and relatives of the missing. Here, they endure agonizing waits, sleeping on thin mattresses provided by the Indonesian government.
Among those waiting is Lutfi Andik, 37, whose 14-year-old son, Muhamad Azam Habibi, a second-year secondary student, is still missing. Mr. Andik raced to the school on Monday immediately after hearing of the collapse, frantically searching every building and calling out his son’s name.
With tear-filled eyes, Mr. Andik confessed, “For the first three days, I clung to hope. But now, I’m losing it. I suppose I must simply accept fate.”
Indonesian authorities have attributed the disaster to a “technological” failure during the school’s ongoing construction to add a fourth floor. Officials stated that pillars crumbled as workers poured concrete on the top level, causing the upper structure to plummet onto a lower floor where students were engaged in prayer.
Notably, officials have remained silent when asked whether the construction work had received proper authorization, raising questions about oversight.
The Al Khoziny school in Sidoarjo, East Java Province, like many Islamic boarding schools across Indonesia, serves as a vital institution where children pursue religious studies, learn the Arabic alphabet, and deepen their faith – all integral aspects of life for many in the region.
Khoiri, 45, a chicken satay vendor from a nearby city, also sent his youngest son, 13-year-old Moh Davin, to the school. As of Friday, Moh Davin remains missing.
Gazing at his son’s photograph on his phone, Mr. Khoiri, who, like many Indonesians, uses only one name, expressed a poignant hope: “I only wish that I could finally meet my son in an intact body.”
The tragedy has sent shockwaves through the surrounding community, a dense residential area characterized by narrow alleys. Many residents recall hearing the terrifying rumble and rushing outside only to witness the school’s collapse, engulfing students in its debris.
In a display of solidarity, neighbors on Friday provided essential relief items—food, water, clothes, blankets, and mattresses—to the families of the students. They also joined government officials in operating a communal kitchen to feed the grieving relatives.
Mochamad Solichan, a 71-year-old nearby resident, recounted the horrific sight of blood-covered students fleeing the crumbling building.
Standing in front of the search and rescue information center, offering drinks to those gathered, he stated, “I felt so scared when I saw students running away for their lives. It was truly devastating.”