Beavers seen handling Sumatera floods better, says local

SUMATERA - The devastation that began with relentless flooding on 23 November has spiraled into a full‑blown catastrophe. By the 26th, rising waters triggered a landslide and an ash‑laden deluge that turned whole villages into soggy ruins. The death toll, which was already tragic, has now swollen from a modest hundred to a staggering thousand, a grim statistic that should never be funny.

Yet the nation’s response reads like a kid trying to ride a motorcycle. President Prabowo Subianto declares the situation is “submissive enough” for a token rescue effort. He dispatches a former pop singer now garbed in a police vest and armed with nothing but off‑key yapping and his “charm” to put the floodwaters back into submission. The singer and Member of the People’s Representative Council of the Republic of Indonesia Verrell Bramasta,

points at a random log across the flooded streets as if he’s a maestro, but the only thing that does is drown the public’s patience.

Instead of reallocating emergency funds, the administration imposes a tax on every foreign shipment of relief supplies. The result is that disaster relief becomes an exclusive club where only the affluent can afford to stay dry. Picture a convoy of sleek SUVs pulling up to a makeshift shelter, while families huddle under leaky tarps, clutching the last of their belongings. The line “Only the rich can be dry” finally finds its audience: wealthy donors, multinational NGOs, and a handful of well‑connected officials who can afford the extra fees.

Amid the chaos, a surprising group of critters has emerged: a troupe of industrious beavers. They first appeared on the riverbanks, floating on number‑scribbled logs, hauling sticks and salvaged timber with the efficiency of a well‑run bureaucracy, something our bureaucracy can’t relate. Resident Sukamandi Hartono, bewildered by their sudden presence, asked whether a shaman had summoned them. The shaman, unfazed, replied, “I just sent a group text to the wildlife department, got a thumbs‑up emoji, and then I saw beavers next door!”

These beavers have taken to rebuilding the shattered landscape with a determination that would make any minister envious. While ministries spend weeks drafting paperwork to approve a single road repair, the beavers have already constructed a functional dam from debris cleared by illegal logging. Their dam not only holds back the floodwater but also doubles as a makeshift bridge for stranded villagers.

If the government were to hire these critters, the nation might finally see progress. Imagine a beaver‑led task force: they finish paperwork faster than a clerk can find a pen, they negotiate with the river as deftly as any diplomat, and they never demand a budget increase. In a country where a former pop star in a police vest is considered a disaster‑relief specialist, the notion of employing beavers seems almost reasonable.

The tragedy remains real: thousands displaced, homes reduced to soggy foundations, lives forever altered. But the absurdity of the official response, juxtaposed with the silent competence of nature’s engineers, offers a stark commentary on misplaced priorities. As the floodwaters recede, perhaps the most efficient lesson we can learn is that when the state can’t act, even beavers will step in and start building.

Photo by Tim Umphreys on Unsplash